a pistol at five-and-twenty paces than have heard this name pronounced; but he betrayed no emotion.
"In this way," said Villefort to himself, "I cannot be accused of making the arrest of this young man a personal question."
"Dantès," repeated he, "Edmond Dantès."
"Yes, monsieur."
Villefort opened a large register, then went to a table, from the table turned to his registers, and then, turning to Morrel,
"Are you quite sure you are not mistaken, monsieur?" said he, in the most natural tone in the world.
Had Morrel been a more quick-sighted man, or better versed in these matters, he would have been surprised at the king's procureur answering him on such a subject so entirely out of his line, instead of referring him to the governors of the prison or the prefect of the department. But Morrel, disappointed in his expectations of exciting fear, saw only, where no fear was visible, condescension. Villefort had calculated lightly.
"No," said Morrel, "I am not mistaken. I have known him ten years, and the last four he has been in my service. Do not you recollect, I came about six weeks ago to beseech your clemency, as I come to-day to beseech your justice — you received me very coldly, and answered me rudely? Oh, the royalists were very severe with the Bonapartists in those days."
"Monsieur," returned Villefort, "I was then a royalist, because I believed the Bourbons not only the heirs to the throne but the chosen of the nation. The miraculous return which we have seen proves me mistaken; the genius of Napoleon has conquered; the legitimate monarch is he who is loved by his people."
"That's right!" cried Morrel. "I like to hear you speak thus, and I augur well for Edmond from it."
"Wait a moment," said Villefort, turning over the leaves of a register; "I have it — a sailor, who was about to marry a young Catalan girl. I recollect now, it was a very serious charge."
"How so?"
"You know that when he left here he was taken to the Palais de Justice."
"Well?"
"I made my report to the authorities at Paris, and sent to them the papers found on him, — it was my duty, — and a week after, he was carried off."
"Carried off!" said Morrel. "What can they have done with him?"
"Oh, he has been taken to Fenestrelles, to Pignerol, or to the Iles
